Devil's Due
by nexus411
Summary: Sorin Markov, the ancient vampire planeswalker, senses a disturbing event in his already haunted home, and finds himself with a threat unlike any he has faced before. Rated T for brief language and scenes of intense violence.
1. Dust Storm

Sorin looked out over the dusky fields of withering grass from the balcony of his cathedral home. The wind cast storms of sand that tarnished the ground far below him, and he gazed upon them thoughtfully. He sensed something wrong with Innistrad, and had been pondering it for several days now.

It was not the general feeling of a demonic presence within the plane, for that he had gotten used to. Innistrad was a haunted place, as his heritage told plainly. He reached up to his neck and touched the two tiny puncture wounds that had ended his mortal life and given him this magnificent undead future. He enjoyed his life now, but often longed to feel that he could be hurt again. He often wished that his immortality could be taken away.

"I know that face," said Olivia Voldaren as she strode haughtily to his side. "That is the face of Sorin Markov questioning his immortality."

Sorin chuckled softly to himself. After thousands of years, she knew him almost too well, but he found it nice to have a friend. He relaxed slightly, and noticed an aura of dark magic falling around him. He must have created in accidentally in his stressed state. "It's more than that, and you know it."

Olivia came to his side and paused, following his gaze. "I know. I sense it too."

"What do you make of it?"

"I think that it should be investigated."

Sorin nodded and made a sharp grunt, but added, "We should wait until the humans depart their village." Although vampiric in nature, he did not believe in slaughtering men for sport. He drank when he was thirsty, and killed when he was hunted, but man on this plane were dying out rapidly, and if they ceased to exist then his kind would have no source of food. He preferred not to get involved in mortal affairs.

"They're not like us, Sorin. If they find a place with enough resources, they'll stay there. There might be another ten generations of humans there and then a demon or another vampire will come by and wipe out all their hard work in a matter of minutes." Olivia sighed heavily. "It is the way of things here."

"But not everywhere. I've been to worlds where humans are the lawmakers of the world, the kings and queens and true nobility of the plane. You have to share in my vision, even if I cannot share it with you."

"What vision is that?"

"The vision of a better Innistrad."

Olivia sighed again. She found it difficult to deal with one so wise and yet never sharing his vast knowledge. "I'm not like you, Sorin. I'm not a planeswalker, I can't see things the way you do, but I can help change our world." There was a sharp scream from the direction that the two ancients sensed the disturbance with their plane, and they both stared towards it. "But this is not from our world. I feel it. You have to go towards the problem this time, and I can't help you."

"I know," replied Sorin. "I'll leave now." He bid Olivia farewell and stepped out into the sandstorm below him, parting the winds as he passed, yet being careful not to use up too much strength. He knew that this encounter was going to be dangerous, and he did not like to run into fights unprepared.


	2. Dirty Work

Sorin moved through the heavy winds of the storm in several minutes, and emerged at the edge of the dead plains. He stood on the edge of a steep precipice, one that led into a great bowl shaped dip in the land, where lay a human village. Small, wooden cottages predominantly made up the establishment, with a good sized church at the center of the town. Sorin paused for a moment to take it in. Such simple, short, and yet happy lives these humans lived. He could not remember a time when he lived such a life, and he did not have time to dwell on a past that he not so much as call to mind. The scream was repeated, this time louder, and the vampire felt a blast of red mana from a cottage at the other end of the town.

He sprinted down the narrow lanes at a supernatural pace, clearing half the village in a minute. As he ran, he looked out at the villagers who stared at his long, white fangs and grey skin in terror. They knew his kind, and they rightly feared him.

He reached the cottage to find it surrounded by various soldiers and clerics, who denied him access. In the darkness, they mistook him for another human, and it was not until he pushed past them and opened the door, from which shone candlelight, that they saw his true lineage.

"Vampire! Kill the vam-" but his screams were cut short by Sorin whipping out his sword and running the man through. Three others soon fell, and the rest of the watch ran away. The lord of Innistrad fed on the fallen men and stepped through the door.

Slumped against the wall was a man in a white robe with a pendant around his neck. The pendant had the symbol of Avacyn engraved into it, a straight line that curved out to make half of a circle, and then shot out in both directions. The man was frightened by Sorin's presence, but alas he could not move. He was covered in his own blood, and was dying. The vampire's knowledge told him that the human would die in less than a minute.

"What did you see? Who did this?" asked Sorin hurriedly.

The man did not, could not reply, but rolled his hand over so that it pointed towards the back of the room. There Sorin saw a cloud of Aether, a portal between planes, closing rapidly. He heard the cackling of devils on the other side, but did not have time to contemplate what it would mean for him to go towards that danger. He had only the time to lick the blood from his blade, sheath it, and follow whatever had killed the cleric to Zendikar.


	3. Chasing the Devil

Sorin's planeswalking to Zendikar landed him in a narrow ravine, which he recognized to be part of the Teeth of Akoum. He struggled to slowly stand up, but heard running footsteps above him and felt the throb of a new planeswalker's spark. He stood and jumped, his inhuman strength throwing him out of the ravine and onto the hard, dirty ground, where his knees caught him. The vampire rose and brushed the dust off of his coat, and then began to chase the thing that had disturbed Innistrad.

It ran just as fast as a vampire, but had not the thousands of years of experience navigating the canyons of Akoum that Sorin had. As he drew nearer to the planeswalker, he saw two curved read horns atop his head, about three inches long apiece. Other than those, it appeared to be human from Sorin's angle.

As the thing jumped about from rock to rock with astounding grace, Sorin thought to himself, _How can it be that he knows the canyon so well?_ He knew that this one was newly sparked, but if that was the case than how could it know its way about this plane? How could it run so easily and not become sapped of energy from the transition between worlds?

Suddenly it jumped on one of the high rocky crags that led to the top of the canyon and crawled up it like a lizard. Sorin saw no that its hands were red, and ended in gnarled, tarnished claws. It moved as quickly at this angle as it had at the last and reached the top of the precipice within ten seconds. Sorin jumped between the canyon's two walls until he too met the peak of the formation, and quickly pulled his sword from its sheath. He heaved it and it sailed through the air towards its target. He didn't know what kind of beast this new planeswalker was, but he knew that it was evil, a pure evil that could not be controlled like his.

As the blade flew though, the newly sparked turned about to face Sorin and held his hands up to his stomach. Sorin saw now the thing's origin. It was a devil in a human's body, with dark yellow eyes and a flashing white smile. Its skin was red all over, not just on its hands, and upon its head encompassing the horns was a dark, frayed mane of hair that fell to one side. When the blade would have landed in him though, it stopped for a brief moment while its target whispered some unholy curse. The blade continued on its path, but when the devil should have fallen down in pain Sorin screamed and clutched his abdomen. Blood was pouring from him, not the other man.

The hybrid slowly approached Sorin, twisting the blade inside of him to add more pain to the vampire's situation, and then pulling it out and throwing it on the ground. "What are you?" asked Sorin through teeth clenched with pain.

It laughed with a wicked smile and said in a voice that sounded like thousands of whispering geists, "I am the fiend blooded one, master of pain, and you should be honored to be the first recipient of my blessings. I am Tibalt, and I am certain that we will meet again." Tibalt then ran off, leaving Sorin bleeding on the dirt.


	4. A New Quest

With hazy eyes Sorin saw the thatched roof above him and the pale skinned creatures surrounding him. He turned about sleepily and noticed that he was on a bed, or at least a platform of sorts. _Kor,_ he thought to himself. The Kor people of Akoum had rescued him. They backed away as they saw that he was awake, and he reached down to touch his wound. It had been well dressed, but healed with spells that had been designed for the living. _This will not do at all, _thought Sorin as he stumbled through the tent and into the daylight. He donned his and gloves so that his entire body was protected from the rays of the sun, and headed for the center of the village, where he knew his sword was being kept.

The landscape was that of a desert, but where there should have been sand there was dry, cracked, hard earth. The vampire strode into the largest teepee, grabbed his weapon, made the customary bow to the leader of the Kor, and set out to find Tibalt. Before he made his way into the world with no leads though, something caught his eye. An amulet resting on a rock glinted in the sun, the mark of the vampires of Zendikar emblazoned upon it. Sorin chuckled. He knew where to go for answers.

Zendikar is a plane almost opposite Innistrad. Where Sorin is from, men contain themselves and succumb to the daily horrors as they reveal themselves to be. In Zendikar though, every race is a firing soul of freedom. In Zendikar generations look forward to the future, no matter how gruesome it may be. In Zendikar, even vampires fear for their lives, and so have formed great cities. Not the rogue beings that they are on Innistrad, they hunt in groups, and make certain that their survival is assured through all dark rituals.

Of all the vampiric empires across the plane, one city dwarfed the others in population, size, and wealth. The city of Malakir. Sorin knew that there he could find the healers of his kind to make him whole once more, and the strength to fight the devil whose pain magic now threatened the entire multiverse.

Sorin made sure that the bandages would last him the miles to go before he reached Malakir and stole a horse from the Kor stables. He heard much shouting behind him, but he soon outran any who might have dared to catch him. He rode for many miles before he reached the sea, which separated him from his goal.

The vampire looked over his shoulder and saw a ship loaded with supplies preparing to set out into the ocean. "Olivia," he said softly as he drew his blade, "what have you led me into."


	5. A Bloodchief's Wounds

Sorin peered into the gleaming sun, wincing as it tarnished his grey skin. Smoke rose off of him, but he did not care. Sunburn was not the worst of his problems. His wound had opened up again since the Kor had bound it, and he could not stop the bleeding. He had steered the ship across the ocean with hazy eyes for a week now, and at last he could see the shore of Guul Draz

, the vampiric continent of the plane.

He stumbled off the boat and trudged slowly towards the ruins ahead of him. The continent had been made to look abandoned, a safe refuge for travelers. This concealed the true hostile nature of the plane, and had provided many a feast for the residents of the city. Sorin stumbled through the broken arches and crumbling pillars, and soon stepped into a trap. He shot up into the air where he dangled inside of a rope net, and from behind the stones of the fallen monuments shot out the vampires of Zendikar.

They had long, black hair, all of them, and they carried wickedly curved and thin blades. Their faces were pierced with bones and painted with a red substance that Sorin had never been able to know the origin of. Was it made from a nearby herb, or the blood of their prey? Knowing their savage nature, he guessed that it was the latter.

"Unk ka lak ru vec!" shouted a tall vampire with a club. His piercings were painted gold, and his exposed chest covered in patterns of the red ink. He looked Sorin over, then bowed and said, "Our leader has put us to oath that should we ever encounter one of our kind with no blood patterns, then we should bring him to the city."

"Leader?" asked Sorin as he was cut free from the trap. "Who is your leader?"

"Our bloodchief has put us to oath that should we ever encounter one of our kind with no blood patterns, then we should bring him to the city," repeated the vampire with the club. Sorin realized that this was the only language this one knew.

Sorin was marched at spearpoint to Malakir, where he could walk no further and passed out from his wounds. He awoke in a dark chamber, with his wound healed. Dark magic emanated from the scar, and he knew that he would have no further problems with it.

A guard came to the cell door and read off of a sheet of paper, "Come with me." Sorin realized that the sheet was made to allow the guard to speak in his language. The Innistradian did not bother asking questions; he knew that he would get no answer in English. Soon he and the guard came to a large chamber that was empty except for a tapestry on the wall, a flaming throne shaped like a ring, and a dark figure that rested in the throne.

"Leave us," announced the dark figure in an ominous tone, and he rose from the throne, beginning to walk towards Sorin. He traced his hand along the wall, revealing long claws. Sorin drew his blade and pounded his hand forward, knocking the bloodchief off his feet. The hood was thrown off, revealing a scarred face, greyer than it should have been and charred beyond recognition. The bloodchief cried out, "Don't look!" and donned his hood again.

Sorin paused and peered at the other vampire's face for just a second longer. "Those wounds," he said meditatively, "those are eldrazi wounds."

"Yes," replied the bloodchief, "yes they are. The monsters that try to devour this plane day after day. The aliens that once roamed the entire multiverse devouring all its mana. You are the one that imprisoned them here on Zendikar and made them ever hungrier. You are Sorin Markov, planeswalker elite and doombringer to my home plane."

Sorin was surprised that the bloodchief knew of the multiverse, but did not question this. "Why save me then?" he asked instead. "Why restore me if I am the source of so much suffering for you?"

"Because I need you. I was there when you trapped the beasts here, and I saw you cut them down like reeds. The eldrazi are moving in from the north, from the Bala Ged wilds, and we are powerless to stop them." He paused for a moment to catch his breath. "I gave you back your own life. I need you to take a few for me."

"And why should I not choose to take yours?"

"Because you care about the future."

Sorin stopped and stared at the man. "You know what it means to survive," he said to the bloodchief.

"Yes. But the eldrazi do not. They know only how to exist, and how to kill," began the scarred vampire. "I fear that if they do not soon die, then my people may sink to their level. Will you help us, or will you let the monsters consume all in their alien darkness?"

Sorin chuckled lightly to himself and said, "I was always going to help you. I was just waiting for the right time to intervene." He clapped the bloodchief on the shoulder and continued, "When I have killed the devilish planeswalker that I now seek, I will return to Zendikar and help you. I've been meaning to get more involved in the world lately, and your world seems like a good place to start."

Sorin started off on his quest again, knowing that he would return to this place, and sat down upon the palace steps to see if he could sense Tibalt's presence. He felt the presence to be weak, not on this plane, and feeding on something. It was on Innistrad again. Sorin leapt into a cloud of Æther that he had summoned and went home. This was not a friendly visit though, and it would end in a tidal wave of death.


	6. Darkness and Light

Back in Innistrad, Sorin came up in the human city of Thraben, a town where the undead pounded on the walls and were kept off of the population only by the old holy wards and roadside shrines. Many a great warrior lived behind these walls, but Sorin knew that eventually they would die, and become like him. In Innistrad death is not the end, it simply shifts your viewpoint on what it means to be alive. Today though, this town was not a beacon of hope for weary travelers to come and rest their heavy hearts. Today this town had become the very hell that it had sought to protect itself from for so long now.

Tibalt strode through the streets, a pale black fire glowing at his hands, burning the cottages to the ground and searing the skin from all who dared stand in his way. "Sorin!" he shouted with a joyous rage. "Come and face me, or watch this land burn!"

Then from behind the planeswalker a woman with flame red hair and the gleam of hatred in her eyes tackled Tibalt to the ground. Olivia Voldaren tussled with him for as long as she could, trying to buy Sorin the time he needed, for she knew that her friend would come. Suddenly she was lifted into the air, a wretched pain clawing at every inch of her being. Gently she rested on the ground on her knees, Tibalt's hand regulating her flight path, and he held a single wretched claw to her throat.

"Olivia! No!" shouted Sorin as he sprinted out from behind one of the houses and down the street to Tibalt.

The devil held out his hand and stopped the vampire mid step, then made one tiny incision on Voldaren's neck. "Too late," he whispered manically. Olivia fell back, her skin turning black as Tibalt's curse took effect. Her own screams mingled with those of Sorin as he watched her die.

Sorin knelt in the dirt as a single tear slowly made its way down his cheek. He rose and looked at Tibalt with a hatred that he had never known before. "Go to hell," muttered the vampire solemnly.

Tibalt's vicious ear to ear smile returned as he replied "Where do you think I come from?"

The two ran at each other, striking vicious blows with claw and blade and tooth and fang, rendering flesh and meat from bone as they clashed again and again. But while Sorin grew ever weaker from his wounds, Tibalt delighted in pain and grew ever stronger. It was not long before he had Sorin pinned on his back with his own sword pressed against his throat.

"Any last tales to spin old man?" mused Tibalt. "I'd like to hear a good fairytale before I make this world, your world, burn."

Sorin paused for a moment, and then began to speak as an idea formed itself in the dark caverns of his ancient mind and he silently called upon his oldest servant. "Long ago," he said, "when the humans of the plane were falling in swarms, and man's blood rained down faster than water, it was not hard to tell that with my kind abounding as they were there would soon be no creatures left for us to feed upon."

"Well this is off to a brilliant start," said Tibalt, his grip on the sword loosening slightly. "Keep going."

"I was there you see," kept up Sorin, "and I knew that humanity needed a guardian. Not I though. Something that they could put their faith into, something that they could depend on," said Sorin, and Tibalt failed to notice a winged shadow rising from behind him. "A vampire is darkness, in both shape and nature, but an angel is purest day and the symbol of hope. So I created Avacyn, so that she might save mankind." Tibalt dropped the blade, astounded. Sorin had never told a soul about his creation of the archangel. Avacyn was a force almost as powerful as himself, and without her Innistrad's humans and vampires alike would certainly have died out long ago. "Now my servant has returned to her master, and she will strip you of your unholy power."

Tibalt rose from Sorin's wounded form and turned about, only to be met with a spear from Avacyn, who the vampire had called upon when all his dark magic had failed the true test of blood. A blast of holy magic erupted from Tibalt's puncture wound, and all devilish essence was ripped from him. Sorin drew his blade off of the ground and approached the now human planeswalker's tattered, bleeding form.

Sorin raised Tibalt off the ground with one hand and pinned him against the wall of a nearby house. The vampire ran his blade through the man's stomach, and stared him in the eyes as he for once screamed in pain.

"It doesn't have to end this way boy," whispered Sorin through all his rage. Even in his state of near insanity, he could always look toward reason. "I can still kill the devils within you, and restore your humanity. You need not die today."

Tibalt coughed blood into the vampire's face. "I," he began, "chose this fate…for myself. I want this power, and it is impossible for you to take it away." He sputtered more blood, but Sorin did not mind. It touched his lips, and he felt a primal hunger taking effect.

"I truly hoped that you would refuse my help," smiled Sorin. He leaned in on Tibalt until their faces were only centimeters apart, and whispered, "I may not be able to take your power, but I can surely take your life." With that he reared back and bit into the man's shoulder, crushing bone and flesh beneath his jaws. Tibalt screamed once, loud, and went cold. As he fed, Sorin felt his strength returning, his wounds healing, and he released the fallen planeswalker's form.

As he licked the blood from his blade and Avacyn flew off into the moonlight, a small child was the first to peak out into the scene of carnage. "Who are you?" she asked quietly, holding out a doll as if it could protect her.

Sorin knelt down to speak to her, and in the few words he replied with the people of Thraben, Innistrad witnessed the first conversation between young and ancient, warm and cold, living and dead that both members had been able to walk away from. "My name is Sorin Markov," he said solemnly. "I am the lord of Innistrad, creator of Avacyn, and protector of the meek. I promise that as long as you live, I shall not abandon you." The little girl nodded quickly and ran to her parents, who embraced her strongly.

Sorin picked up Olivia Voldaren's cold form and carried her over to the church, where he entrusted her to the care of a powerful cleric. He left the town of Thraben and never looked back, but he left a changed man, a more powerful vampire, and a more trusted planeswalker. He would return to his home in due time, but he had things to attend to elsewhere.


	7. Epilogue

Olivia Voldaren awoke on a cushioned couch with no sense of how long she had been dead. She knew that she had been killed, but she wasn't sure how long she had stayed that way or how she had come back to life. There was a heavy iron door on one end of the room, her dress, washed and dried to remove the blood stains, hung from a silver stand, and the mirror in the back told her that she had been washed as well.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, cursing about how the light made her vision blurry, and saw a note on the small table next to her. She picked it up and began to read, knowing very well before she reached the end of the letter who had written it.

_Dearest Olivia,_

_If you're reading this, it means that Mikaeus succeeded in your revival. You are no longer dead, and you are still a vampire, but you will feel much weaker for several days. This room was fashioned to suit your needs for several days. Livestock is being used to feed you for now; I could not convince them to offer up their own blood. They seem rather attached to it. They will let you out when you have your strength, and I forbid you to kill any resident of Thraben. They are good people, even if they will never know true power._

_I could not stay. I have made an oath to myself to stop waiting for the world to change and to force it to change my way. I carry with me a heart full of worry, and I will check to see if I can sense your consciousness every night. There are planes that need me everywhere now, and I do not know when I will return to Innistrad._

_For now, all I can do is thank you. I forgot what it means to live, even if I am not alive. I forgot what it means to feel, even if my skin is like stone. I forgot what it means to love, even if my heart does not beat. As I said before, I could not stay. I have business to attend to on Zendikar._

_Signed with devil's blood,_

_Sorin Markov_

Sorin's name was written in red. Olivia chuckled softly and lay down to sleep. Before she slipped into the comforting darkness though, she whispered to herself, "He will torch just like the rest of them."


End file.
